Apocrypha
by Shinkshinkshink
Summary: Hawke and crew must set things right before the magisters use a dark device to unleash unfathomable devastation upon Thedas, but what if the real threat is closer to home? A remnant of Fenris' past resurfaces, upsetting the balance of Hawke's love life, and making her question her ability to lead. Will she overcome her fears when it matters most, or crumble beneath their weight?
1. Preface

**A/N: I am back from my hiatus at last and beyond ready to bring this series to it's (hopefully) satisfying conclusion. I have so much planned for this story. I hope I can include it all before the thing threatens to eclipse both of my other novels combined in length, but I make no promises. **

**Since some of you are no doubt just beginning this journey with us, and others might need a refresher course in the series, I would like to preface this story with a recap of the previous two books. Those of you who have read both Beauty and the Berserker and Plenary Indulgence already have my utmost gratitude, as well as my awe. I realize how huge of a commitment it must be to sit down and read a novel-length fanfiction, let alone two more after that. Nonetheless, I understand that not everyone has the time or inclination for such a daunting task, and I do not consider their readership lesser simply because of it. So I have written this as a sort of primer to my little trilogy. It is very basic and there are many little details that I did not include for the sake of brevity or relevance, but h****opefully it brings you up to speed with the events of this story and ready to delve into the third book. I may still annotate small references in the story as the need arises, as well. Feel free to message me and ask about anything that leaves you feeling confused. And if at some point you would like to read my previous works, I certainly won't complain. **

**To start you off, both previous stories were written in past tense with a third person limited narrative in multiple perspectives. Beauty and the Berserker had chapters written in the point of view of Anders, Fenris and Hawke, while Plenary Indulgence added Lazarus, an original character of mine. B&B was written as a sort of challenge I set for myself where I would post a new chapter every day. I did not work with a beta and some of the chapters are very short. The content suffered for these reasons, and also because I was fairly new to fanfiction at the time, so be forewarned if you do decide to read it. Eventually, I will probably have to go back and rewrite most of it. I gave myself much more legroom with Plenary Indulgence and I worked with a beta throughout the entire process, so I'm much more pleased with how it turned out. I'm hoping I'll be able to say the same for this book, despite how nervous I am about writing a genre I've never done before. ****  
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**Also, I am aware that the advent of Inquisition's trailers alone negates the events of this story, and I'm fine with that. I've been smashing canon since B&B, and I'll continue to do so until Bioware hires me. XD **

**So, without further ado, these are my "Shinknotes." **

* * *

**Beauty and the Berserker**

Fenris left Hawke alone in her bed after they made love, and in her grief, she found solace in the arms of one sensitive blonde healer. She was still in love with Fenris, but Anders treated her well and cherished her where Fenris just threw her away.

Three years later, Anders and she had begun to grow apart from his increasing absence, as the demon inside him wouldn't let him be. In that time, she never stopped loving Fenris, despite her heart's protest, and the fact that he seemed content to simply be her friend.

The events of "Alone" did not go quite as planned, however. They came to the Hanged man underprepared for what was about to take place, and Hawke was left grievously wounded and unconscious. Danarius threatened to take Hawke into his custody and whore her out to every magister in Tevinter, for Fenris' disobedience. Fenris, still madly in love with Hawke, could not allow this to happen and offered himself unquestioningly in her stead, making Anders promise that he would not allow her to follow, to tell her that he died during the fight.

When Hawke awoke to hear the news, she swore to exact vengeance on the magister and began training to build her strength with Anders, never telling him about her plan. Training went badly one night when Anders taunted her into a hysterical berserker rage and she almost killed him with her bare hands. This seemed to still Justice for a time, making Anders return to his former flirtatious, silly self. Nevertheless, the prospect of nearly killing her lover just because she was angry did not sit well with Hawke. She sought out a trainer who could help her control and harness her rage.

There she met Britta, a casteless dwarf with no time for games or idle chatter. Britta taught Hawke how to channel her anger and become a fearsome force on the field of battle. Hawke thought she was finally ready to find Danarius and avenge Fenris' death. After a night of love-making and a marriage proposal from Anders that went unanswered, she stole away in the twilight hours of the morning to board Isabela's ship and set sail to the Imperium, knowing full well that telling Anders would only make him want to convince her to stay.

Little did she know that Anders followed her to the docks. Displeased by the abandonment and terrified that his lie would be discovered, he had to devise a new plan to stop Hawke from reaching Tevinter. Later that night, he dumped half the stock of fresh water overboard, so that they would have to stop and restock. While wallowing in his guilt, afterwards, he found that Justice did not truly leave, but the act of forgiving Hawke after she nearly killed Anders changed the spirit from his twisted form of Vengeance into something more manageable: the spirit of Clemency. So long as Anders was able to keep his anger in check, Clemency would remain.

Meanwhile, in Tevinter, Fenris was beginning to suffer from the effects of lyrium poisoning. Nearly ten years without maintenance allowed the lyrium to wreak havoc on his body. He was beginning to have strange hallucinations, visions, flashbacks. The only cure for such a thing was a painful and dangerous ritual the magister devised called "lyrium therapy," and Fenris knew that he would soon go through it.

Hawke and crew had to stop in Antiva to restock, and there Anders got a plan to hire the Crows to fake a kidnapping in order to get Hawke to turn back to Kirkwall. Of course, the whole thing went horribly awry and Hawke was rightfully angry with Anders' antics. This damaged the trust between them, but Anders still couldn't find it in him to admit that he lied about Fenris' death. Not until they were right off the shores of Tevinter. Hawke was furious, and what little respect and trust she had for Anders was irrevocably broken.

They found Danarius' mansion and Hawke brutally eviscerated him until he was no longer recognizable. The commotion woke poor weak, bedridden, delirious Fenris and he stumbled into his master's study to see what the fuss was. Instead he found Hawke standing over his dead master, dripping with blood and gore. They shared an impassioned kiss in the heat of the moment. Then Hawke, accompanied by Fenris and eighteen of Danarius' former slaves, boarded the ship back to Kirkwall.

Hawke ended the relationship between her and Anders once and for all. It was not easy for her, but he had lied about so many things and she no longer felt like she could trust him. And although she was happy to have Fenris back and her love for him never truly went away, both of them agreed that she was not ready to completely give him heart away again just yet. In time, and with the aid of one very handsome elf, Hawke was able to mend her broken heart and love him completely, just as she'd wanted from the very beginning.

All seemed perfect until they reached Kirkwall and realized that without the Champion to keep her in line, Meredith went mad with power. Anders returned to his clinic, which was littered with the corpses of his comrades from the mage underground. With no more reason to stay in control, Anders gave in to his rage and allowed Vengeance to take over, thus committing his infamous act of iconoclasm, just like in the game.

* * *

**Plenary Indulgence**

A year after the explosion of the Chantry, Hawke and crew had still not moved on from the Free Marches. Anders fled their company, buckling under the weight of his crimes. Hawke was left alone to deal with grief and the guilt of knowing that she played a part in the mayhem. She couldn't bring herself to leave Sundermount, hoping that Anders would return and she could save him from himself before he harmed anyone else. She was too numb to care that she was putting everyone she loved in danger for her own selfish feelings. She and Fenris' relationship suffered from a lack of intimacy and affection, since Hawke felt that she did not deserve love. Still, he was unwilling to simply abandon her or forget the love they shared together, even after an entire year of being subjected to her moodiness. But when finally Varric was abducted and interrogated by the Seeker (canon changed for convenience), even Hawke had to admit that they could no longer stay in the Free Marches.

Meanwhile, Anders found an unlikely companion by the name of Lazarus, a fire-obsessed Circle mage with little in the way of common sense. They evaded capture by squatting on Isabela's ship. Anders' condition had deteriorated over the past year, the spirit inside of him warring for dominance with each passing day. He would often go into dangerous fits of delirium with hallucinations. He knew it was only a matter of time before his sanity completely left him.

Hawke and crew reached Isabela's ship and already, Hawke felt a little more alive. She and Fenris were just about to rekindle their passion when Anders was discovered belowdecks, along with his strange new companion. Hawke was livid, but instead of killing him, she vowed to help him, since he was once her friend, after all. They set sail for Rivain, where they believed they would be safe due to the small Chantry presence.

Love was in the air, as Hawke and Fenris patched their fragile relationship and Bethany and Laz began to form a shy, tentative admiration for each other. But they were not able to enjoy Rivain for long before Anders attacked Hawke and nearly killed her, thinking she was a demon. He admitted then, that he had been suffering for some time and only neglected to tell her about the symptoms because he didn't wish to be a burden. Hawke decided that in order to quell the guilt she felt about what happened in Kirkwall, they had to go to Tevinter and find a cure. Until then, Anders had to have around the clock supervision to make sure that he wouldn't harm anyone or himself.

The night before they left for Tevinter, Fenris had made plans to propose to Hawke, with a night of luxury and romance. He even bought a ring and asked for Bethany's blessing. His proposal was unfortunately interrupted by another of Anders' episodes, though, and after that, he couldn't find a decent moment to go through with it.

On the ship to Tevinter, Bethany and Laz shared their first kiss over a bottle of grog, Anders' condition continued to rapidly worsen and Hawke told Fenris her reasons for wanting to save Anders; not out of loyalty, but to absolve herself of her sins. Fenris did not understand, but supported her nonetheless, even if it meant returning to Tevinter.

When they reached Qarinas, they couldn't help but feel that something was not right. The residential area was closed off for repairs after a "rebellion", there were no refugees, the villagers were all acting rather oddly, and Anders started talking in prophetic riddles as soon as they left the ship. They did get some information on a magister who might be able to help them with their problem, named Socinus, and they were told that his apprentice could sometimes be found in the inn they were staying in.

After an argument between Hawke and Fenris, Hawke went to the residential quarter to see what was really going on, and was promptly captured. Varric, who was with her, managed to escape by the skin of his teeth to tell Fenris about what happened. They started to hunt for her, but none of the villagers would speak to them about it and they had no leads.

Meanwhile, in a cell not far away, Hawke found herself in a fortress in the middle of some sort of work camp, in a dark cell with the Hero of Ferelden (Kallian Tabris), Leliana and Tallis, who had all come to investigate rumors about a weapon the magisters created and were subsequently captured. Flemeth, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, told them what she knew: that the magisters had created a device so dangerous that it could sunder the Veil and destroy Thedas forever. Suddenly, everything Anders said started to make total sense. Flemeth agreed to take a message to Fenris under the condition that she and her cellmates had to stop the VeilSever weapon from ever being used.

Flemeth found Fenris and his search party and relayed Hawke's message: that Anders knew the way to find her, and that he was the key. Fenris returned to the inn and Varania, Socinus' apprentice, was waiting in his room. She was apologetic, but Fenris felt it was too little, too late and agreed only to accompany her to the Magister's home. He did not care about Anders, but if he was the key to finding Hawke, he had help him.

The magister Socinus knew almost right away what was wrong with Anders and agreed to help them, so long as Fenris let him study his markings. The ritual that exorcised Justice involved red lyrium, and was supposed to be failproof. Nevertheless, something seemed to have gone wrong when Fenris passed out during the rite. No one could find anything wrong with him and wrote it off as fatigue. Anders, however, was completely free of Justice and completely regained his mind.

They went to rescue Hawke, using Anders' foresight to lead the way. What they discovered was a facility that used mages (mostly slaves and refugees) to power an unstable red lyrium weapon of immense power. Socinus showed up with Bethany as a hostage and they had to let him go if they wanted her to live.

Fenris' lyrium must have set something off in the weapon, because he absorbed it's power, causing the lyrium in his skin to become corrupted. With what little strength he had left, he gave Hawke the ring he'd been holding onto, apologizing for not being able to give her a lifetime of love. Merrill then revealed that she could fix him with blood magic, but it would take all of someone's blood to do so. After much begging and pleading for her to reconsider, Hawke had already made up her mind and put Fenris to sleep, fully intent on making the sacrifice herself.

In the Fade, Fenris learned that Justice was bound to him, held captive by his markings. Justice explained that he was cleansed of his corruption once he left Ander's body, and that he could lend Fenris his strength (if he so chose), but could not control his actions or hear his thoughts as he could with Anders, as Fenris was not truly possessed. Fenris did not have time to be angry, as he soon discovered that he was only sleeping in the real world, not dead. He knew that this meant that Hawke had sacrificed herself, and he mourned her loss.

When he awoke, Fenris was on a ship to Seheron, his marking restored to their original state, but after nearly killing Anders in a fit of grief-stricken anger, Aveline told him that Hawke was not dead, but somewhere on the ship, and that she would explain everything. Hawke told him that Varania returned and made the sacrifice at the last possible second, giving her life for his. She also told him that they were sailing to Seheron with Tallis to request the assistance of the Arishok for the upcoming war, that she would fight in the hopes of redeeming herself for what happened in Kirkwall.

Fenris was not pleased to hear this, and tried to remind her of what her ceaseless quest for redemption had brought them so far. He told her that she had changed, and was no longer the woman he fell in love with. Unless she stopped endangering herself and her friends for the wrong reasons, he could no longer be with her.

Lazarus and Bethany had finally consummated their feelings for one another, sharing an awkwardly adorable first time, and Anders dealt with his guilt and emptiness by taking care of a despondent Hawke. She couldn't deal with the pain of losing Fenris, even if he still loved her. She collapsed in on herself and wouldn't get out of bed until they reached Seheron. Fenris was not faring much better, but he felt he needed to stand on principle for Hawke's own good, offering support in the way of his protection in the city. As Basalit-ahn, Hawke had to accompany Tallis and Kallian to speak to the Arishok, formerly known as Sten of the Beresaad.

Tallis uncovered that in the Veilsever facility, there was a map identifying five other facilities like it in Tevinter, and the Arishok was all but forced to give her the army she needed for the good of his people and mankind.

Hawke returned to her empty cabin, where Anders blamed her for the events back in Kirkwall until she snapped and protested that it was all his fault, everything was his fault and that she would have played no part in it if she had known what he had planned. A teary-eyed Anders, who admitted that he'd only said those things so that she would see her blamelessness, told her to go to Fenris and tell him that she was ready to move on from Kirkwall at last. She did, and Fenris proposed to her in earnest. They made love in their cabin as they prepared to return to Tevinter with two dozen Qunari Dreadnoughts at their back.


	2. Stowaway

_Canticle of Shartan:_

_At Shartan's word, the sky _  
_Grew black with arrows. _  
_At Our Lady's, ten thousand swords _  
_Rang from their sheaths, _  
_A great hymn rose over Valarian Fields gladly proclaiming: Those who had been slaves were now free._

**Fenris**

Fenris slowly scaled the stairs of Hawke estate. Well, it wasn't really Hawke estate, but an incredible likeness. His home - their home - exactly as they left it, rendered perfectly in the fabric of the Fade down to the knots in the wood and the cracks in the walls. His feet padded softly on the plush carpet with each step in his ascent. He knew what awaited him at the end of his trek, but he still hoped otherwise. The few good memories he had took place here, right before Justice and his emissary stole it from him. Now the demon dared to defile this place - the closest thing to "hallowed ground" Fenris could imagine - with his foul presence. It disgusted him.

Wisps flitted around the dark mahogany balustrades of the staircase, in and out of his path. These also made him uncomfortable, but they were to be expected here, and no real threat. Justice, however, was not a native to this part of the Fade. He was an intruder. Even Fenris could see what the Spirit did to Anders over the years. Where once the mage was just a nuisance, he became a public menace and then a drooling invalid. The effects of their separation was almost immediate. For this reason and many others, Fenris was wary of the spirit's presence. Justice was unpredictable and foreign; a boil to be lanced. It was only a matter of finding a way.

As Fenris pushed open the door to the room he and Hawke once shared what seemed like eons ago, he found his confirmation. Justice stood in the center of the room, unmoving, just as he did every night. The spirit seemed to never move from this one spot on the floor. He was unnaturally still. His chest did not rise and fall with breath, he did not shift from one leg to the next for comfort, he didn't turn his head toward Fenris to acknowledge him. Fenris knew that none of these things were necessary for a Fade spirit, but knowing did not make it any less disturbing of a prospect.

"Spirit." Fenris said, evenly.

"Elf."

Fenris took a seat on the side of the bed, marvelling at how real it felt, how it dipped a little under his weight, how the room smelled of incense, and how the soft, orange glow of the perpetually burning fireplace played across the walls. He knew if he sniffed the pillows, they would smell of Hawke's soap-scented hair, that if he opened the desk drawer, he would find the book they were reading the night before the Chantry explosion, with the ribbon still marking the same page. It was difficult to believe it as a farce when he so much wanted for it to be as real as it seemed.

"You are still here." he sighed, smoothing his fingers over the cool satin sheets. It felt almost as if he could turn and find Hawke's sleeping form behind him, though he knew it was the one thing the Fade could not offer. Not in any concrete and satisfying way.

"Yes." Justice answered. "I cannot leave, as I mentioned before."

"Must you stay here, though?" he gestured toward the area where Justice was standing. "Couldn't you haunt the pantry? The library? The privy? Why this particular room?"

The spirit stopped for a moment to consider it, but he was so deathly silent that Fenris almost wondered if he simply obliged. A glance in Justice's direction, however, proved otherwise.

"I prefer this room." There was another measure of silence, then Justice asked "Will you fight to liberate your people in the upcoming battle, elf?"

Fenris frowned. They had this conversation every night for the past three days. Justice was so hard-set in his convictions that he couldn't be dissuaded from it, and Fenris was too stubborn to concede. It was beginning to become tiresome for Fenris.

"My 'people' are all on the ship. None of them need liberating."

"But what of the other slaves? Will you not emancipate them from their oppressors? You were one of them once."

"Once, and no longer. I fought tooth and nail for this freedom. Most of these slaves do not even understand the concept. It is only by chance that I discovered it, myself."

"Then you should teach it to them. Doesn't everyone deserve the same chances you had?"

"And how is it my responsibility to provide them?"

"It is your duty."

"Hawke is my duty."

"Have you no purpose of your own?"

This gave Fenris pause. "Purpose" had been a difficult idea to contend with, once it was no longer revenge and survival. As of late, it didn't really matter much. There was always something to preoccupy him: protecting Hawke, finding her when she was captured, working out their romantic difficulties and now there was a war to add to the growing list. Once it was all over, "purpose" might be an issue again, but for now he was more concerned with keeping he and Hawke alive long enough to find out.

"My sword belongs to her. It is purpose enough."

"Your indifference demeans your accomplishment. You have the ability and the means. To sit by idly while people like you and your sister are subjugated..."

"You will not speak of Varania!" Fenris shouted, turning on a dime toward the demon, his nostrils flaring wide with rage. If he could throttle Justice by his collar, he would. Sadly, that was not the case. "She chose her fate, many times over!"

Justice did not flinch, didn't move at all, which was mostly expected. "She redeemed herself in death."

"You do not decide that!" Upon realization of what he said, He backed away from Justice, running his fingers through his snowy hair and sighing miserably. Of course he did, he was the embodiment of the virtue of Justice. If not his scale, then whose?

Was justice a cut and dry issue, that everyone should paint each scenario with the same brush? Certainly, Anders had established a different measure of justice after the merge, but that could hardly be called an improvement. Fenris was not proposing mass murder, he simply refused to acknowledge Varania's sacrifice as penance for her many evils. Could he truly be blamed? She tried to sell him into slavery to become a magister! She aligned herself with an evil man who plotted to wreak incalculable havoc upon the world! Should he thank her for having one moment of sobriety?

"This conversation is over." With this, he started towards the door.

* * *

He woke to the sound of Isabela crashing through their cabin door, her rum-drunk voice sing-songing "Hawke, Fenris! I think you'll want to see this."

Fenris grumbled and turned into Hawke's neck, enjoying what was likely the last few shreds of comfort he'd have that day. "Doesn't anyone know how to knock on this ship?"

"It's my ship, I'll do as I please. How else am I supposed to catch you two in a compromised position?"

"Sorry to disappoint." Fenris said dryly, his eyes still closed tight, mostly in defiance at this point. There was no way he'd manage to get back to sleep after all this commotion.

"What is it, Isabela? Can it wait an hour or so?" Hawke murmured.

"It...can, but I wouldn't if I were you."

"Andraste's holy soup spoon...will you just tell us what it is?"

"If you must know, it's a stowaway. A very pretty and interesting stowaway who claims to know your elf."

Hawke lifted a brow at this and glanced at Fenris from her peripherals. He merely shrugged.

"Really, Isabela. You should start checking your cargo hold before you leave port from now on. This is beginning to get old." Hawke sighed. "We'll come find you when we're decent."

"No need to dress up on my account. 'Come as you are' that's what I always say." the pirate winked, sauntering out the door.

Fenris barely heard the comment, or the barrage of muttered complaints Hawke let loose as she rose from her side of the bed. He was lost in thought, trying to jog his memory for the name or the face of anyone he might know from Seheron who he hadn't killed at Danarius' behest. The entire ordeal was a haze for him. He could hardly remember when the order came and the last body fell, just the row of lifeless bodies scattered at his feet.

_Lost in the mist._ - he thought idly.

He languidly dressed himself and followed Hawke as she sought out their captain, still vying for any sort of answer to his question and finding none.

When finally Hawke opened the door to the brig, his eyes at first didn't fully register the sight before him. Hawke turned toward him to gauge his reaction to their uninvited guest, but he was too dumbfounded to give one.

White hair, silver skin dusted with a galaxy of black freckles, and teflon colored horns that curved gracefully back behind her head; she was Kataasha, the jungle's fist. She wore a simple hide halter with a harness and a pair of tan leather trousers, much like she did so many years ago. Her exposed skin was marked with green paint in patterns that mocked Qunari warpaint traditions. Ten years had not changed her. Not in the least.

"Fenris." Kataasha said, in her unmistakable rasp. Her voice lilted strangely in some places, but she commanded the Common language like it was her native tongue. "It is good to see you."

He blinked once, then twice in bewilderment, recalling the first time he met Kataasha. She was not one of the native people of Seheron, but a Qunari rescue from the city. A "Tal-Vashoth." There were many such outcasts among the tribe. There was even a son of a magister who had expatriated from the Imperium when he fell in love with a priestess. Most of the non-natives were much more ruthless and dedicated to the cause of the Warriors, and Kataasha was no exception. She was as cunning and treacherous as the jungle itself. He'd seen her lay waste to a band of Tevinter elites once. The magisters often organized these elaborate hunting games to test their physical and magical prowess. Most would not have survived the jungle anyway, but to see her thoroughly eviscerate these men the way she did...Fenris did not know whether to admire or fear her.

"Kataasha." he said finally, still in shock. "How did you…?"

"Find the ship? I followed you, of course." she said, flashing a smirk his way. "I saw you in the city while scouting. I thought I'd seen a ghost, and yet, here you are. How fortuitous that you were not slain with the rest of our brothers and sisters."

"Yes." he said, chewing his lip. So she didn't know? He had to tell her of course, but now hardly seemed the time or place. "Lucky for both of us."

Her black lips curled up at the edges. "I was on a mission that evening. If I were not, I am certain I would have suffered the same fate as the others." Her eyes skated over his form, taking in his appearance, inch by inch. "You wear armor now. Last I saw you, you were dressed only in leaf paint. I can't say I approve of the change. Otherwise, you look much the same. I have thought of you often."

Hawke cast a dark glare at him, then said "Why are you here?"

Kataasha gave Hawke an appraising glance, then looked down at her hands, clearly unimpressed. "To help fight the Tevinters, of course. They killed my tribe. I owe Seheron a life for each man and child the Imperial Pig-lords stole from her."

Hawke paused, her features completely unreadable. He'd told her once about the incident with the Fog Warriors, over a bottle of Aggregio. She was the first and only person he'd ever told, and he fully expected her to shun him for it, at the time. She didn't, obviously, but he wouldn't blame her for it if she suddenly changed her mind, even after all these years. He did not remember killing any children, but he would not be surprised to learn it was true. He was a monster, through and through.

"Surely even a magister wouldn't murder a child?" she protested, not daring to look at Fenris, perhaps for fear of betraying him.

"Not directly, no, but when you kill a suckling babe's mother, what chance does it have?"

"I am sorry for your loss." Hawke said softly. "Nonetheless, that still doesn't explain how you knew we were going to war with Tevinter."

"I was spying, remember?" Kataasha said. She seemed bored of the conversation. "I took great pains to do so and it was no small task getting onto this ship, either. Now, are you going to let me fight with you or are you going to throw me overboard? Whatever it is, let's be done with it."

Hawke turned back to Fenris at last, lifting one brow sharply. He couldn't begin to express how uncomfortable it made him to hold another Fog Warrior's life in his hands, after years of coming to terms with his part in their deaths. It took all his effort just to give a slight nod in Hawke's direction.

"A pleasure to meet you...Kataasha, is it? I am Hawke. We will help you avenge your fallen friends." Hawke said, extending her hand toward Kataasha to help her to her feet, she rejected the aid and stood on her own.

"More than you know." she laughed, giving Fenris an uneasy feeling. "Kat is fine. I know you mainlanders have difficulty pronouncing Qunari names. Can I have my blades back?"

Isabela passed Kat a pair of daggers. "You're lucky they aren't valuable or pretty. I might have decided to 'lose' them."

Kat ignored the comment as she holstered her weapons. "Now. I am hungry and I'm sure there are many souls I should acquaint myself with on the ship. We will talk strategies tomorrow."

"Excuse me?" Hawke asked. "We have the Qunari for that."

"You would entrust the fate of the world to barbaric monsters who would enslave you all without a second thought? Brilliant plan. I hope you like the Qun."

"You underestimate me."

"Maybe. Or maybe everyone else overestimates you." she shrugged in indifference. "I, however, do not intend to give anything else to the dogs of Par Vollen, even if it is a land filled with mainlander fools. If you disagree, then you are unfit to lead."

Hawke waved her hands in accession and gave Isabela a look that conveyed how truly tired she was of this entire trip. "Do you think you can get our 'guest' settled in?" she asked the captain, her voice dripping with sarcasm and a touch too loud for the contained area. It was at once apparent to everyone in the immediate vicinity that Hawke and Kataasha would not get along. Perhaps that was Hawke's intention. Her eyes met Fenris' for just a split second before storming away.

Isabela shrugged, but if Kat was bothered by the interaction, she didn't show it. "I'll be glad for a meal and a bed." she said to no one in particular. "Sleeping on a wooden floor does not make for a restful night's sleep. Perhaps tomorrow you and I can catch up, Fenris?"

Fenris could not meet her gaze,though he knew the question was directed at him. "Yes." he answered, lamely.

"Tomorrow, then." Kat said. Isabela began to lead her toward the vacant cabin. He had thought that Anders would take it, since Bethany was staying with Laz and Hawke and he were no longer separated. The mage apparently opted to remain in sick bay, and the arrangement seemed to work out well for the moment.

Rather than sit alone and wallow like he might have before he met and loved Hawke, he decided to seek her out back in their cabin. His mind was muddled and already exhausted, despite having just woken up. Hawke would no doubt want to talk about what transpired, about the "leaf paint" and Kat's wandering eyes and his feelings in general on the matter. He did not relish the idea, and would probably go back to sleep once it was all finally over. There would not be many chances to sleep in once he reached the mainland.

She was, as predicted, waiting for him on the edge of the bed, nibbling on some sort of Qunari pastry. At least she did not look angry with him.

He began to unclasp his jerkin, wanting to only settle back into the bed with her and forget the dizziness of the morning's events. He made his way to her, dropping the leather in a heap on the floor on the way. His fingers fanned and slid into the shag of black hair in front of her eyes, baring the atmospheric blue to his green. One of her arms hooked around him, her warm palm flat against the small of his back, where the lines of lyrium tangled and twined together. Fenris liked that she was not overly delicate with him as she had once been. It was a statement of trust, that she would not hurt him and that if she did, he would tell her.

"What troubles you?" he asked, when she did not speak.

She sighed, pressing a kiss into the flesh below his navel and setting her food on the bedside table. Her lips were warm and familiar, and even such a perfunctory kiss from her could stoke fire in his loins, but he combated it for her sake.

"It's nothing, Fenris."

His hand left her hair and dipped under her chin to tilt it up toward him. It was rare for him to be unable to read her gaze, but there was conflict there. Her usually so confident smile - wide even in the face of certain death - looked strained under the weight of her unspoken thoughts. He sank to his knees before her, drawing both hands together in her lap, his whole brow lifting gently in sincerity. "Tell me."

She struggled for a moment, measuring her words. "What she said… Kataasha…"

His hands left her lap to turn into fists at his side. "Which part, I wonder?" he asked, a touch of venom in his voice. He was not angry at her but with himself. Angry at the thought of losing her after everything. Angry at the past that would not stop haunting him, no matter how much he tried to atone for his misdeeds. Angry because he knew there was nothing he could do to set things right for Kataasha and her kin. Moreover, he was afraid. "The part where I killed innocents? Where I doomed infants to die of starvation? Where the only reason she still lives is because she was not there to receive the blade? Yes, Hawke. I imagine it is all true. I understand if you cannot love me, knowing what I am."

She framed his face with her hands and force him to look into her eyes. A wry smile took the place of the uncertainty that had been there a moment earlier.

"What you are is wonderful." she said, kissing his brow. "Handsome, loving, loyal, fiercely devoted, sweet, strong and an archdemon between the sheets, I might add." She waggled her eyebrows a little for measure, earning a reluctant snort from him. "You are going to be the perfect husband, when this is all over. I'm a very lucky woman. Nothing will convince me otherwise."

This quieted the blooming build of fear in his chest. Hawke always knew what to say to gentle the beast within. His hands rejoined hers in her lap, the pad of his thumb sweeping over the red stone on her ring. Such a small thing to take such pleasure in, and yet, he doubted he would ever tire of it. "I am the lucky one." he said, bringing her hand to his lips to press a kiss into her palm, and then close her fist around it for safekeeping. "Which part?"

She rested her forehead against his, drawing in a shaky breath as her eyes slipped closed. "What if she's right? What if I'm not fit to lead something of this scale?"

"If you were unfit to lead, I would not follow." he answered, without hesitation.

She shook her head and rose to her feet, freeing her hands from his grasp, then she paced the room in a tight, even line. "But how can you be sure?"

"Because it is you. This is not your first battle."

"This is nothing like the Gallows."

"No." he agreed. "We were outnumbered, unprepared and cornered like rats in the Gallows. This time you will have a legion of oxmen at your back and the Hero of Ferelden at your flank. You will not be without resources or aid. The Imperium will crumble beneath your feet."

"I don't know, Fenris..."

"Hawke." he said, catching her by the wrist. "Have faith. We will win, and you will be the one to lead us to victory. You will, because you must."

She nodded, kneeling behind him. Her arms encircled his middle and pulled him back against her chest. He yielded willingly to the embrace without complaint, as her palms glided down the planes of his chest and abs in a long, smooth stroke, then gently scratched her way back up to his collarbones. This gained a pleasant hiss from between his teeth, which seemed to tickle her enough to do it again.

"And then we'll ravish each other in the streets?" she asked in a teasing tone, seemingly satisfied by his reassurance.

He laughed. "Naturally. I imagine we'll want for a bath first."

"Oh, I don't know. Realizing the threat of mortality can drive people to madness, Fenris."

"So I imagine. It will be memorable, I have no doubt about that."

"Mm, and now you're just teasing me."

His lips found her forearm and feathered a few amorous kisses into her flesh. Here he realized that he did not need to be in Kirkwall on satin sheets in front of a roaring hearth to be home. The demon could have that place for all he cared. He knotted his fingers into Hawke's hair and pulled her down for a long, relishing kiss. In that kiss there were promises that would outlive and conquer her fears and this war itself, and the look in his eyes showed only his brutal determination to make good on every last one.

He pulled away, starved for air and wanting. She seemed no better, for all of the worry she'd suffered moments ago.

"Just a sample, then."


	3. The Jungle's Fist

**Kataasha**

**_Seheron City,9:21 Dragon_**

The Tamassran tilted the young Qunari's head up by the chin, quietly scanning her features and taking mental note. Her boots clicked on the granite floors of the spartan hall as the priestess took a few meandering steps around the unnamed, reading silently through the girl's file. In it was an exhaustive record of her genealogy, an account of her various skills and weaknesses, even a medical history. All of this would determine her name and thus, her place in society. All her education, her training and the sum of her being led up to this moment. She had no delusions of grandeur, no individualistic or rebellious streak, her only hope was to serve the Qun as best she could, like any functioning part of Qunari society. She was putty, waiting to be molded for the kiln.

The Tamassran clapped the file shut abruptly and stopped in place in front of the girl. "Rise, Ashakka." she said.

Ashakka - the girl echoed in her mind, as she rose to her feet. They had gone numb beneath her weight long ago, and thus her balance was a bit unsteady. She stumbled a little, but quickly caught and straightened herself. That is my name. Not only her name, but her title and her role. She understood this.

The Tamassran set the file down on a rough-hewn wooden desk, which along with its chair, was the only furniture in the hall. A few rays of sunlight forced their way through the windows to dapple the floors, but it did not lend much warmth or light when pitted against the cold stone. Most Qunari architecture had a similar cold, bleak feel to them.

"You have been chosen for the selective breeding program. Your role will be to produce healthy boys for the Antaam, until you are no longer physically able." the Tamassran said, circling the desk to have a seat. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." Ashakka said.

The Tamassran nodded and dismissed her without any further questions. Understanding was acceptance. To choose to struggle against one's identity was to live outside the Qun, and Ashakka knew there was no life outside of the Qun, only death and chaos.

* * *

_**Isabela's ship, Ventosus Straits, 9:39 Dragon**_

Speaking to Fenris at length was an exercise in restraint for Kat. If she thought it would sate her, she would have killed him on the spot, but she knew better. She wanted to make him suffer, to take everything from him as he did to her. She would settle for nothing less.

She could still remember in vivid, gory detail the sight of him as he slashed and stabbed his way through the tribe; people who had broken bread with him only hours before, who called him friend, brother. She watched silently from the canopy of trees, waiting for a chance to leap upon him and end his pathetic existence. A chance that never came, or if it did, she was too much of a coward to take it. It was something she would always regret. Now the universe had seemingly given her another chance to set things right. This time she would not hesitate. Seheron would finally be able to properly grieve the loss of her children.

But if she thought that talking to Fenris was difficult, his peers proved even more aggravating. Some were less vapid than others - the pirate, the talkative dwarf, the redhead whose physical stature rivaled her own, she liked them - and none were so infuriating as the unseasonably chipper Ben-hassrath, but for the most part she had to repeat herself ad nauseam to those who left no less ignorant when they started speaking. No, she was not with the Antaam. Yes, she was a qunari. No, she did not follow the Qun… there was no end to the pointless questions. She bore no real ill-will toward them, but her patience was not what it once was with her vengeance so near. She simply had no energy for it.

And they all spoke about this Hawke woman like she was some sort of goddess incarnate. While Kat was not actively hostile toward her either, she was ambivalent. A brilliant tactician who called upon the aid of Qunari to combat magisters? To her, this was the equivalent of asking a tiger to take care of a python. Did she really think that the vermin would simply return to Seheron empty-handed after the war was over? That the Qunari were above picking the bones of the Imperium?

Plus, there was the matter of her romantic involvement with the betrayer, Fenris. This alone made Kat question her judgment and leadership. It seemed as though they were fated to be rivals. Kat preferred to know now, lest she wake one morning with a knife in her back, or cease to wake at all, for that matter.

By the time Isabela began to lead Kat to the Galley, she had more or less decided that mainlanders were hopeless, and that no amount of strategy or cunning on her part would save them from the might of the horde of Qunari that would inevitably descend upon them once this was all over.

Once they reached the Galley - since naturally, the trip was interrupted by yet another group of Fenris' cohorts - she found herself face to face with a dazed-looking blonde man, staring at a loaf of bread with such bewilderment that Kat had to wonder if he was mentally well.

"Are you going to eat the bread or woo it?" she asked impatiently.

The man whipped his head toward her in alarm, lifting a solitary brow. "Oh, sorry, I guess I got distracted." he said, setting the bread back on the shelf. He turned back with a smile and an appraising glance. He was handsome for a human, though obviously not very bright.

Isabela cleared her throat from somewhere behind them. "Kat, this is Anders, our healer. Anders, this is Kat, our…stowaway."

Anders lifted a solitary brow with intrigue and snorted. "Good to meet you. I've never seen a female Qunari before. I wasn't aware that the Qunari allowed them in their military. The new Arishok must be a progressive thinker."

Kat scoffed. "They are all the same, from the lowest goatherd to the triumvirate, itself. Any Qunari would consider "progressive" to be an insult, not to mention inapplicable. I am not one of them."

"Oh." he replied, his brows drawn down in puzzlement. "But the horns…"

Both Kat and Isabela let out a loud sigh at this, realizing that she would yet again have to explain herself to another hopeless. "'Qunari' is the name for both the religious group and the horned people of Par Vollen. I am qunari, but I no longer follow the Qun. 'Tal Vashoth', if you will. One might think that with all the fire and brimstone the Andrasteans level at the shit-horns - deserved or otherwise - they might know a thing or two about them."

"Excuse my ignorance. My dealings with Qunari have been as limited as they've been unpleasant." Anders smiled, undeterred by her annoyance. "That rant seemed rather rehearsed."

"You're the fifth to hear it."

"Well, I'm honored to be your fifth."

"You're honored to be the fifth fool I've met today? And that's a generous estimation, by the way." Kat frowned. She wasn't sure if this man was making fun of her or flirting with her, either way, she was in no mood.

"I'm honored to meet a beautiful woman, especially one so bold and quick-witted as yourself. Perhaps you can tell me more about these Fog Warriors, once you are done explaining yourself ad nauseum. Good day." At that, he retrieved his loaf of bread and departed, leaving Kat the confused one.

"He is odd." Kat decided after a moment or two.

The Rivaini woman gave a measure of laughter at this. "Yes, but he's also a miracle worker. You should ask him about the lightning trick. It works wonders for stress relief."

* * *

The "strategizing" didn't go quite as Kat planned, but it was an amusing little event, nonetheless. It was as though this Hawke woman had never had her authority questioned before. The merest suggestion that she was unfit to lead seemed to send her into some spiraling chasm of doubt. Fenris sat silently beside her the entire while, his eyes locked on the painted leather map or on Hawke, but never at Kat. That also amused her.

They had been discussing the first attack, and the Warden was kind enough to bring Kat up to speed, but not kind enough to take charge; something about Grey Warden neutrality. If Hawke had her way, they would first strike at Qarinas, reinforce their numbers with whatever slaves and refugees could bear arms and then march on Carastes. This alone was all well and good, but her methods of battle involved rather more guesswork and wishful thinking than Kat cared for. The argument that ensued continued for another hour, and everyone but the two of them and Fenris had abandoned the war-table for less uncomfortable activities after the first half hour.

"You cannot count on forces that are not yet at your disposal." Kat said, sweeping the bronze coin that Hawke had been using to indicate the divine's elite forces from the table. It spun in increasingly wider circles as it touched the floor, further adding to the tension of the room. "You aren't even certain that they will show."

"They have to." she said.

"You should count on them not being present. Prepare for the worst case scenario. That is what a good tactician would do."

"What you suggested would mean suicide for an entire unit of men!"

"Qunari." Kat corrected. "And why does it trouble you so?"

"Why _doesn't_ it trouble you?"

"No soldier in the Antaam fears death, and the Qunari certainly have no qualms with sacrificing their own for victory." _If anything, thinning their number would help matters_ - she thought, but didn't say. "A few Qunari means little when faced with the world annihilation, don't you think?"

"Perhaps to you!"

Kat crossed her arms over her chest. "To anyone with sense."

"What is sense worth if we become monsters in the process?!"

"Your life. Your friends' lives. The world. For reasons unknown and much to my chagrin, you are the de facto leader of this operation. We cannot afford to lose this to your tenderheartedness. It is time for you to grow a spine."

"You are far too familiar for someone I hardly know. You have been with us for one day and already you are trying to assert your dominance. Do not mistake my mercy for weakness, the only reason you are still here is because Fenris wishes it." Hawke said, rising from her seat, her nostrils flaring wide.

"Speaking of which, what do you think of all this, Fenris?" Kat challenged. Hawke looked as though she were about to protest to the question, but Kat knew full-well that doing so would mean to dismiss Fenris.

Fenris glanced up at Kat, their eyes meeting for the first time in over a decade. His harbored more shadows, more pain than they had so long ago. _Good. It is only as you deserve._ They lowered again to his hands, folded neatly in his lap. He sighed emphatically.

"I don't wish to be involved in this dispute." he said.

Hawke quirked up a brow. Perhaps she had assumed that he would automatically take her side in the matter. They were lovers, after all. His hesitation made her squirm and Kat enjoyed watching it. "No, go on. I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter."

He lifted his head to glare at her, a silent conversation passing between them, before he bonelessly stood and traipsed over to the map. After a moment or two of scanning the field for positions, calculating and playing out different possibilities in his head, he raked back his hair and said "I think that...collateral damage is inevitable, and the plan is sound." He did not look pleased with his verdict, but he did look convinced of its efficacy.

Hawke thinned her lips in a tight line and drew her brow down. There was an intense moment or two of deliberation, her features switching from shock to pain to anger and finally acceptance. "Very well." she said, waving her hands at the both of them in acquiescence. "Let their deaths be on your hands, then." She left the room without another word.

And then Kat and Fenris were alone, at last. Kat couldn't help but feel like a panther stalking its unwitting meal from the shadows, licking its chops and poising for the kill.

"You always were practical, weren't you?" she asked, a playful, victorious grin etched on her face, without regard to the bitterness inside. He looked as if he was considering a way to leave without appearing rude. "How have you fared since last we saw each other? I thought that the magister killed you, for certain."

He hesitated, measuring lies against half-lies or looking for a way to forgo the subject of the tribe's death altogether. It was a treat to watch.

"I was too valuable of an asset, at the time."

Her lips curled into a smirk. _Ah, avoidance, it is._ Two can play pretend. "And that changed?"

"My value? No. Danarius is dead now. I killed him."

Kat nodded in understanding, and that wasn't feigned. Regardless of what Fenris was, the magister had to die. She only hoped that he suffered for his act. "And she?" she gestured toward the doorway Hawke had recently stormed out of.

Again, he met her gaze, ears perking up with a confidence she'd never seen in him before. A much more comfortable subject, perhaps. "I owe her everything." he said. "That is all you need to know."

"An interesting choice of words." Kat mused, aloud. "I assumed you two were romantically involved, by the way you looked at each other."

"We are. Does one necessarily exclude the other?"

"Not at all. Savior, lover, leader. I may have underestimated her strength, to carry you through so much. You are lucky to have her."

This gave him pause. His entire body stiffened at accusation in the statement, as she knew it would. It was clearly something he'd considered before. "I do not need to be carried. Hawke and I are equals."

"Of course. That was just a poor choice of words." Kat smiled, shifting some of the pawns around the map. She'd always been exceptional when it came to tactical manipulation, military, or more personal. Soon the seed of doubt would take root and Fenris would be in a prime position to be crushed underfoot. All according to plan. "Do you ever miss Seheron?"

"At times." he said softly, his eyes far away and unfocused, remembering. She wondered if he could remember the massacre as she did, if it was even worth note. She wondered if the burden of remembering the rebels who died was her sole burden. It seemed unfair that they should all be dead while she and this mongrel were allowed to live. She wished she could go back and die in their stead. "Kataasha, there is something I should tell you." he continued in a pained voice.

This caught her off guard. Did he mean to admit to his involvement? To add insult to injury with an apology that would never be enough?

"Go on." she said, taking a few steps back from the table and focusing her eyes on him.

He struggled for awhile, his mouth opening and closing as he must have searched for inadequate words. Words that wouldn't even serve as a beginning to an absolution she never intended to allow him.

"I am tired." he said finally, punctuating the statement with a miserable sigh. "I believe I'll retire for the evening."

"As you wish." she said, holding back a self-satisfied grin.

He nodded and crossed the room to the exit, pausing before the door. "We shall speak more on this later."

"Yes. I look forward to it."


	4. Mouth

**I promised you lots of smut in this story, and a good writer always keeps their promises. I don't claim to be a good writer, but I do aspire to be one! NSFW chapter (obviously).**

**Thanks to JenniferHawke for the smut request (dirty talk). If you have a smut request, feel free to PM me, or leave it in a review if you're bold. As long as it doesn't thoroughly squick me (not an easy task), and as long as I'm not overloaded with requests, I'll try to fulfill it before the end of the story. **

**Kinks: dirty talk, oral, 69, rough sex. **

**Hawke**

Hawke had never been the type to let petty insults get to her, especially not from someone she barely knew. One had to have thick skin after living as a Fereldan refugee in Kirkwall, after living with an elf and escaped Tevinter slave in Hightown. It was how terribly accurate and inopportune these ones were that allowed them to nest in her mind. It was as though this woman knew exactly how to get under her skin, what brick to pull to cause the foundation of her confidence to crumble. It probably didn't help matters that she'd almost lost Fenris' love to her judgment, not a week prior.

_Fenris._ She ached for him. It was difficult to imagine what sort of conflict he was going through, seeing Kat after all these years. She wanted to talk to him about it, longed to soothe his pain, but she feared that any sort of consolation on her part would only be seen as an insult to her proud lover. Waiting for him to come to her about it seemed almost as if she were suffering the guilt herself. At the moment she didn't feel able to offer any consolation, anyway. He was right to side with Kat, and she was wrong to think or even want him to side with her out of sheer loyalty. Even so, it had cemented the idea of her own inadequacy in her mind. It cut her more deeply than she was able to express, even to herself. She was grateful that only the three of them had been present to witness this embarrassment.

Then there was this niggling jealousy that had recently taken root in the depths of her chest. She had foolishly expected Fenris to follow on her heels when she left, and was disappointed when he didn't. Logically, she understood that he probably wanted to speak to Kat, maybe even to confess the part he played in the death of her tribe, but it was a half hour later and he still hadn't returned to the cabin. Kat was beautiful, strong, smart, she'd known Fenris longer and the lingering glances she gave him left Hawke feeling disconcerted. It was an irrational, unfounded fear, and she knew it. She hated that she felt this way. She trusted Fenris. That didn't diminish the prodding fears in the back of her mind.

Her jealousy wasn't the reason she disliked Kataasha, however. There was just something about the woman that made Hawke uneasy. It wasn't something she could pinpoint. The abruptness and the ruthlessness could be overlooked, too; she'd built much rockier alliances before, and under thinner banners. No matter how she tried to write it off as her own insecurity, she just couldn't shake the disquiet she felt.

She sighed miserably and allowed herself to fall into the mattress, wondering how could things become so complicated over the course of a day.

It was at about this time that Fenris pushed through the door, carrying a tray with their supper on it. So lost in thought was she that she didn't notice him until the bed shifted under Fenris' weight. She blinked out of her reverie, turning to meet his gaze, which was focused intently upon her.

"You are stressed." he said, stroking back her hair, then smoothing the worry lines in her brow with the calloused pad of his thumb. This was as much of an apology as she was likely to receive from him, not that she was expecting one. Fenris always apologized when he was wrong, but never for being right. It was frustrating when they first began cultivating their love for one another, but over time she grew to respect it about him. Stubborn, willful, honest Fenris loved her enough not to coddle her with flimsy reassurances, even if it might end an argument or win her approval. That was why they worked so well together. Their trust for one another was steel-tempered and unshakeable.

She nuzzled against his palm, letting her eyes drift closed. "I don't know if I should feel ashamed to be so transparent or delighted that you can read me so well. I am. I've never felt this stressed before."

"Then allow me to ease your burden." he said. Hawke was about to protest, but he stopped the argument at her lips with a soft kiss, then pressed a solitary finger against them as he pulled away. "I insist."

Hawke smiled, a bit dumbstruck by the suddenness of this affection. "What exactly does this easing entail?"

"Many things." he chuckled. "It may even take all night, though I doubt you will complain."

"I like the sound of that."

His lips clasped with hers again, this time in a suffocating, devouring kiss. Hawke loved how Fenris kissed her. No matter how often it happened, no matter what they'd been through or how tired they were, he always kissed her like he needed it. She wondered if once the war was over and the day was saved, when they'd been together ten, twenty years, would he still kiss her this way?

His eyes - barely green but for a thin jade band around overfull pupils - fixed on hers, and the corner of one side of his lips lifted, sending a spike of heat through her middle. His hand found hers fisted up in the bedspread and covered it with his own, pulling it free to replace it on his erection through his leggings.

"It takes so little effort for you to make me pulse and ache." he whispered in her ear, the tickle of his breath sent a shiver up her spine, but she was hot where it mattered.

She traced the outline of his cock through the leather with one finger and felt him leap at even such a cursory touch. A smile played across her lips. "Really? And what would you like for me to do about all this pulsing and aching?"

"Nothing. I want nothing more than to give you pleasure." he breathed, but the way he arched against her hand said otherwise.

"What if I said they were related subjects?"

He laughed, then scraped the sensitive flesh of her neck with his teeth, teasingly. "Then I'm certain you'll think of something inventive."

Her fingers hooked into his laces, tugging them free with ease. "True, but perhaps I also like it when you talk dirty to me." Another well-placed pull and he sprang free of his leggings. Although she'd seen him many, many times before, she still couldn't help but marvel at how well-formed he was. A masterpiece, really, and all for her. "And if you feed my fantasies, I might even entertain yours. Quid pro quo."

"Is that so?" he asked. Both of his hands had found their way into her tunic, his clever fingers plucking at her hardened nipples and causing her to sigh in approval. It became quiet for a short time, as Fenris seemed to be weighing many different fantasies against one another, or searching for the right words to turn her on. She caressed his sack and his shaft teasingly, as if in encouragement. When finally his eyes fixed on hers again, it was to watch her reaction.

"I want you to suck me dry, until I come on your tongue."

Her heart pounded out a frantic fanfare. She could feel herself blooming and soaking her smalls. He knelt in front of her to swirl his tongue around the peak of her breast, nipping it gently.

"I imagine that will earn me a handsome reward."

He pulled his mouth off her nipple with a pronounced pop. "Indeed." he breathed, the fullness of his lips brushing over the very tip of the moistened bud. "I intend to climax you with my mouth and fingers no less than three times." As soon as he finished speaking he latched back onto her breast, causing a groan to erupt from her throat.

"Three? You bully!" she gasped, more in pleasure than in the mock affront she intended. "That sounds like a lot of work. I suppose we'll just drop off in exhaustion after that?"

"Mm." he rumbled, as he loosed her from her trousers. "No such luck. You know what your flavor does to me."

"Tell me."

He parted her lower lips with his thumbs for his lingering inspection. "It makes me painfully hard and desperate for release."

"Oh? So how would we..." The middle of the question was punctuated with a sob as he slipped a long, slender digit deep inside her core. "set things right again?"

"I would fuck you senseless. So hard that your nethers bruise and you scream my name, loud enough to herald our approach to all the magisters of Tevinter." With this, he began to steadily move his finger in and out of her in hard, punishing strokes. "Just like this."

"A risky move, alerting our enemies, but worth it I imagine." Her eyes glazed over and she threw her head back in abandon. Why did he never talk this way to her before? He must have known what his voice alone did to her, but hearing him say these things with that edge of need was enough to drive her mad.

"I've never seen you this wet before. Your body is hungry for my cock." he laughed darkly, removing his finger from her depths. She immediately whimpered at the loss of sensation, her eyes following the finger as he brought it to his lips and sucked it clean of her juices with the same sort of relish he might reserve for his favorite dessert. "So? What is your verdict?"

"You're in luck, my dear elf. I am feeling rather accommodating today."

A growl came from deep in his chest, curling into her ear. He stood and began to masturbate in front of her with one hand while the other twined into the hair at the base of her neck. She could stand to see him touch himself like this a bit more, but she would much rather be the cause of his pleasure. Without much more deliberation, she dropped down to her knees and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. At this, his hand ceased its stroking to rake through her hair.

She half expected him to begin bucking wildly into her mouth, but instead his fingers pulled free of her hair and traced their way down her jawline until they reached her chin. He circled her lips, slowly, his brows arched in silent, longing question. Every muscle in his thighs and abdomen looked taut and tense with flagging effort. It was nearly as effective a strategy. Hawke couldn't deny him when he looked at her that way.

When she finally sucked her way down the length of him, the sound that left his lips sounded almost bestial in nature. His whole body quivered.

"Your tongue…" he half-whispered, his fingers twining around the bedpost to hold himself upright. He never quite finished that thought, however. As if in answer, she bathed him with her tongue in a long, unbroken sweep, eliciting a hitching gasp from the depth of his throat. "Marian." Then his hips did begin to arch at her, willing her to take more of him, as foreign words and nonsense tumbled from his mouth.

Fenris was always so enthusiastic about foreplay, giving or receiving. As such, it never took much convincing to put Hawke on her knees. Seeing him completely abandon his inhibitions at her touch was a pleasure in and of itself. Hawke loved the guttural cries of satisfaction that seemed to tear from his throat, but as his voice grew, so did the ache between her legs. The promise of his mouth on her hung in her mind, making the anticipation excruciating. He seemed rather too rapt in the throes of pleasure to notice that one of her hands had slipped between her legs and started rubbing her clit.

She gently cupped his full sack in her palm while she pleasured him in earnest. She kept her eyes locked on his face, softened, with dropped jaw, closed eyes and raised brow as she moved forward to accept more of him, then withdrew to the tip. Again she descended, picking up pace, feathering her tongue along the underside. His hand settled on the crown of her head, brushing the stray locks back from her eyes, or holding her steady as he stimulated himself against the ridged palate of her mouth.

At about this point he noticed her hand working below her to relieve herself of some of the tension that had built, and loosed a loud moan of desire at the sight of it. "I meant to take care of you tonight, Marian."

She pulled off of him for a moment, reluctantly. "It's alright. I enjoy this. You just sounded so nice, I couldn't help myself."

"No. This night is about you."

"Fenris…" she frowned.

He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. He slowly kissed his way down her neck and shoulders to her breasts. "I'm going to taste you now. And I'll keep going until you can take no more." He kissed each of her nipples and continued his descent. His fingers had already found their destination and two had even embedded themselves deep in her folds.

She shivered, her hands fumbling on his shoulders and back, fisting the hair at the nape of his neck. "You know, it needn't be one or the other."

He ceased the assault of lips on her belly, glancing up at her with one quirked brow. "Hm. True."

She gestured toward the bed, and Fenris made no argument. He climbed in and made himself comfortable on the pillows, stroking himself languidly as he waited for her to climb on top of him. As soon as she straddled his face, before she even made herself comfortable, his mouth commenced it's perusal of her lower lips, kissing and sucking at her mound, tracing her slit with the tip of his tongue, but not yet allowing it to slip through her curtain.

It was almost too much to lean forward and resume sucking him, but somehow she managed. She clasped onto him and was rewarded with an enraptured gasp. At last, he parted her and covered her with his lips in kind. His muscular arms looped around her thighs, palms molding over her hips to pin her flush against his mouth. His tongue, no longer shy, proceeded to thrash her painfully swollen bead with fervent glee.

Determined to not allow him to have all the fun, she decided it was time to challenge his efforts. A bead of moisture had already gathered at the end of him, and she lapped it up greedily as she bobbed her head. Her hands, slippery with her saliva, roamed his shaft and balls, making every inch of the area slick and glistening. He squirmed beneath her and lifted his hips to gain more ground in her mouth and she readily allowed it.

Fenris was never one to be outdone, so he too stepped up his game. One arm unhooked to snake through her legs and press a lonesome finger into her core, all the way up to the last knuckle. She grinded back against it, coating his chin and lips in her essence to encourage more. He obliged her silent plea, adding another finger to the mix. This caused her to moan loudly on him, and in turn, he chuckled into her, vibrating her nethers with his voice.

She could feel herself quickly approaching her end. She eagerly sucked at him in a desperate attempt to stay the flood, but it was too late. A bloom of warmth burst through her center, on his darting tongue and fingers. She threw back her head and squalled, clawing at his thighs for purchase.

His hips jutted forward to press the weeping bulb of his cock against her lips, seeking his own release. She granted him entrance and he almost immediately erupted on her tongue as it swept over him. The salty taste of his come filled her mouth almost to brimming and she swallowed it back readily, pumping him with her hands to drain the last few drops. The sounds that escaped him were loud enough to alert the ship to their activities and neither of them were bothered by this.

Slowly, his squirming stopped and he stilled, but his mouth persisted to explore her, his fingers still pushing deep into her. "Fenris." she said, half-moan, half-plea. She was even more sensitive since the last orgasm and her whole body twitched in time to his licks. He made no reply. She tried to escape his grip, but his arms held her firmly in place. "Fenris!"

He pulled away momentarily to grate out "I am not yet done with you."

She let out a breathy laugh. "Can't we at least switch positions?"

"Very well." he sighed dramatically, releasing her from his vice-like embrace.

She settled down on her back, knees pressed firmly together and Fenris found his place below her. "How do you expect me to eat when you are locked down tighter than an Orlesian fortress?" he asked, slapping her playfully on the thigh. "I'll gladly lick you until dawn without complaint, but if you ask me to hunt wyverns, you'll find yourself disappointed."

She gave him a tired look. "This is not what I had in mind when I asked you to talk dirty." But she slowly parted her legs to either side, even so. "Are you sure this is what you want? You don't have to if you don't...oh Maker!" He interrupted her by encircling her clit with his lips, the very tip of his tongue passing gently over it. Again, two fingers found her sheath and slid easily inside. Her orgasm took her by surprise this time, her whole upper body rising from the mattress as she crowed out his name. The only thing holding her in place was Fenris' strong arm, wrapped around her hip, his palm splayed flat on her belly.

True to his word, Fenris did not stop after her breathing regained it's normal cadence. Although her body was exhausted and her womanhood almost too sensitive for pleasure, she did not want to rob him of his fantasy. He drank ravenously at her, pumping his slicked fingers rapidly. The whole room echoed the wet sounds of her arousal, and sounds that couldn't possibly be her voice for how guttural and animalistic they sounded. The hand that was holding her flat against the mattress smoothed up to her breast and strummed it's hardened peak once, then twice, and she couldn't stop herself from flailing and shaking. A scream tore from her belly, and it felt like pure energy detonate from her lower half, white and too hot and piercingly bright. Every cell in her body buzzed in time with her frantic pulse, and the sound fizzled out into soft static.

"No more." she said, in a very small, tired voice. "Can't take it."

She could barely open her eyes anymore, but she felt the weight shift on the bed, then something warm brush against the inside of her thigh. "I need you." Fenris said, his voice low and husky like she'd never heard it before. She let out a soft grunt of approval and it seemed to suffice as an answer, judging by the noise he made.

His scented mouth covered hers in a wanton kiss as he slid home, and he pulled away to rest his forehead against her bosom. He pressed a few kisses between her breasts, building up a hungry rhythm. He was not gentle with her, and he didn't seem overly worried with the shouting it induced.

He gripped onto her hips as he drove into her, watching as her breasts rocked and quivered with each thrust. Her essence dripped in thick rivulets down her ass and thighs onto the mattress, and sprayed his stomach each time they joined. She used what little strength she had left to massage him with her inner walls, closing around him tight.

"Listen to you." he moaned, hilting himself again. She was so wet that her body kissed his groin loudly as they connected. "I won't be long this way."

"Come." she rasped out, still lucid and tender enough to want him even now, but she was beginning to fade with each passing moment.

His moans turned into grunts and growls, more angry with every pull, growing in frequency and volume. His whole body tremored erratically as he obliged her command, roaring at the top of his lungs. He crashed forward onto her, seizing, and a jet of warm seed coated her insides.

His breathing slowed and his body became pliant. After one last kiss he rolled over onto his side and they promptly fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Hawke woke the next morning to find Fenris still tangled with her, still naked and smiling faintly. She didn't move, despite how her lower half had fallen asleep overnight. It was sore between her legs, and she was certain that she needed to wash up, but she wanted to let him rest, especially after all the work he'd done the night before. Nonetheless, he had always been a light sleeper, and thus jolted awake when she yawned.

"Morning." he murmured, his voice still raspy from sleep. "I trust you slept well.

She pulled free of the knot of limbs and went to work trying to wake her dead legs. "Thanks to you. I will be sore for another week, also thanks to you."

He laughed and threw an arm over her waist, pulling her close against him. "You'll forgive my lack of sympathy."

As she drew a deep breath, she noted the scent of her dinner, which had been left to spoil overnight in favor of the evening's activities. She laughed despite herself. "No wonder I'm so hungry." At once, Fenris rose from the bed and started to dress himself. "What are you doing?"

"Retrieving your breakfast." he said, as though that should be blatantly obvious.

"I can get it, Fenris. "

She tried to sit forward but was blocked by an outstretched hand. "I insist."

This sounded familiar to her, and raised a red flag in her mind. Why, all of the sudden, did he insist on waiting on her? Was she missing something?

"Is it my nameday?"

"No."

"Then…" she puzzled. "What's going on? You're awfully generous of late."

"Do I need a reason?"

"No, but…"

"Then don't trouble yourself." he said, leaving the room before she could further protest.

Hawke sat, staring vacantly at the door in befuddlement. Fenris had always been generous with his affections, expressing his love with tangible, measurable acts rather than spelling it out in words, but this was uncharacteristic, even for him. It made Hawke suspicious. What had changed in the last day, to change Fenris' attitude so drastically?

Hawke knew the answer to this, but refused to acknowledge it. She convinced herself that she was being paranoid and insecure. There had to be another reasonable explanation. Perhaps he was just afraid of losing her in the chaos to come, or maybe the reality of their engagement had finally set in. There was no reason to think that there was anything between Fenris and Kat. Was there?


End file.
